Bìtan

By Jessie Roberts

Raelyn discovers monsters are real, and she's now one of them.

 

After a traumatic childhood, Raelyn has finally found happiness. Raelyn thinks she has it all —a loving boyfriend, great friends, and a protective grandmother—but then a vicious beast changes her world forever.

 

The black wolf slaughtered her boyfriend and their friends, leaving her as the sole survivor. Grandma is the only one left, and Raelyn will do anything to keep her safe as she battles against a darkness growing within her and a mysterious man who stalks her. 

 

With bodies piling up and no one to help her, can Raelyn overcome her inner turmoil and find the peace she needs to survive?

 

Bìtan is a standalone dark Little Red Riding Hood retelling. If you like books where the main character has to fight her very nature to survive, the horror and thrills of this book will keep you reading long into the dark of might. Read Bìtan today to lose yourself in the twists and turns of this dark tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessie Roberts
• Release date: Sep 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215115664

Book preview

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The bright light of the moon beats back the shadows of the forest, which brings me back to memories of my mother telling me monsters don't exist. Not in the shadows, under my bed, or anywhere else. She is wrong, and I never understood how she missed the one right in front of us. Maybe she was used to the monster, but I could never become accustomed to him.

Looking up at the moon, I feel a chill run through me, filling me with a sense of foreboding that halts the sound of my pencil scratching against paper. What if we are both wrong? The shadows cast by the moon may hide anything from the naked eye. Goosebumps cover my flesh as I sense someone watching me. After convincing myself that I'm letting my mind play tricks, I laugh and remind myself that the only monsters in this world are evil human beings.

With a quick shake of my head, I dispel my irrational thoughts and go back to shading the orb I'm drawing over the wolf’s head I sketched on the way here. Drawing has always been my favorite way to channel my creativity. Everyone tells me I should do this for a living. I'm afraid drawing for money would suck the love and confidenceI have for it away.

I use the resumed scratching of my pencil to drown out the sounds of my friends eating each other's faces across the fire. I'm not even sure how they both managed to fit in that camping chair. Underestimating their ability to make out in the weirdest places is another talent of mine. It seems I have many.

Hey there, Red Riding Hood. Do you ever draw anything else? Jim's breath fans my neck as he looks over my shoulder.

What's wrong with wolves? In my opinion, nothing. I love wolves. They're gorgeous animals that make beautiful music. How can someone not like wolves? That's the real question.

Jim plops down in the chair next to mine, placing his ice-cold beer in the built-in cupholder and handing me the soda I asked for. Alcohol makes me nervous with my family’s history. They can drink all they like, but I refuse. Nothing. It's just all you draw.

I draw other things.

He laughs. Sure you do.

Also, I say to change the subject, I told you that nickname doesn't fit me.

Oh, it so does. You always wear that red hoodie, and you love wolves. It's perfect.

Giving up on my sketch, I put my drawing pencil back in its case. I'm pretty sure Little Red Riding Hood didn't love wolves. They ate her grandma.

Details...

Why does Julia get a normal nickname?

Jim looks at me as if I grew an extra head. Her name may be Julia, but I call her Jules because she likes jewelry, not because of her name.

And Skippy?

He skipped two grades, duh.

I laugh, closing my sketchbook. What are we, back in high school?

Just because you're twenty-five doesn't mean you have to act like you're ninety. Live a little, Red.

I sigh. "Where are Julia and Andrew?"

Andrew is such a boring name.

Okay... Jules and Skippy...

That's better, he sighs, stretching his feet out toward the crackling fire. They went in search of more wood.

That was a while ago.

Jim laces his fingers behind his head and leans back. You know them. They're probably going at it in front of a bear or something.

I snort, turning my head away to try to hide it. Let's change the subject, please.

Fine. About next weekend. I think we should go visit your parents.

Any subject but that. Where did you leave the lantern?

Jim points at the tent we share, and I see the green canvas glowing with the light within. I left it in there so we can make shadow puppets when we go to bed.

He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. My cheeks become hotter than the fire in front of us. Oh my god!

My embarrassment makes him laugh. Stop changing the subject. You need to forgive. At least your mother. Your dad can go to hell.

She isn't blameless. She let it happen. Enabling is just as bad. I liked the shadow puppet subject better, Jim. Can we go back to that?

I bet you did, he winks. Wait until you see my talent later. By the way, don't call me Jim, Little Red Riding Hood.

I am not using the nickname you gave yourself!

Do it! I'll show you why I deserve it later.

Fine, my big bad wolf.

He leans in for a kiss that never reaches completion. Our friends scream as a streak of black slams into their chair. I jump to my feet, Jim stepping in front of me. Looking over his shoulder, I see a big black wolf with red eyes rip the arm off Jim's older brother in one bite. My hands grip my boyfriend's shirt until my knuckles hurt.

The girlfriend has fallen into the fire. She somehow manages to pull herself out and roll on the ground while screaming. As soon as the flames are out, the wolf is on her. She tries to hold him off as he goes for her throat, the blisters on her arms glowing in the firelight.

Jim drags me over to my tent and shoves me in it. Close the flap!

I'm not leaving you out there!

Just do—

A strangled scream cuts my boyfriend’s words off as he's pulled back. I grab his hands, but it's no use. I cannot pull him from the beast's jaws. Blood sprays as he is dragged toward the fire. I stare, frozen as the warm liquid rolls down my face.

When I see the beast open Jim's belly, I throw up the snacks I ate earlier and close the flap. Clothes, shoes, and books fly across the tent as I look for any kind of weapon, anything I can use to save myself. I can hear the wolf clawing at my tent door. My time is limited.

When I hear canvas tear, I grab the lantern and swing it. The wolf yelps when steel connects with his nose, but he doesn't slow. Agonizing pain sears through my ankle as sharp teeth clamp down. I can feel bones crunch, forcing a blood-curdling scream from my mouth.

My yells of pain mix with sobs as the wolf drags me from the tent by my ravaged ankle. Next thing I know, his jaws are coming for my face. When I try to block him, the bones in my wrist are crushed. I'm crying and begging for my life as my blood mixes with Jim's on my face.

I try to roll to avoid the next lunge of those vicious fangs. The wolf misses my neck but bites into my right shoulder instead. Screams of agony surprise me with the level they reach. I never thought I'd ever hear such brutal sounds come from myself, not after all the pain I’ve dealt with in the past. This is a whole different level.

A different cry echoes in the air, followed by the clattering of wood. I watch as Andrew tries to drag the beast off Julia. Her unseeing eyes fall on me, half her jaw missing. I turn from the carnage, finding my sketchbook open to the drawing I've been working on.

Blood covers my sketch of the moon as my vision begins to darken. The wolf growls and snarls before a loud bang shatters the air around the ravaged campsite. Sweet unconsciousness starts to consume me, the world growing dark to hide the surrounding carnage.

I guess monsters are real, after all.

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Beeping pulls me from nightmares of blood and agony. I fight the pull of consciousness, only wanting to remain in the darkness of oblivion for a little longer. Voices, one in particular, make me fear waking as much as the nightmares. When a television blares to life, I can no longer keep my heavy eyelids shut.

You woke her, my mother says.

It's about time. It's not like it's been three weeks or anything. I thought you wanted her awake, says the voice I've been trying to forget since I moved away.

My parents start arguing. As soon as the threats start, I tune them out. It's what I'm used to, and I'm glad to find I still have the skill. With blurry vision, it's not like I can see what's going on yet. I curse that my hearing came back so quickly.

The world around me clears a little at a time. I turn my head to look at the beeping monitors. Multiple clear tubes enter the machine that converges them into a single line that enters my hand. When the blood pressure cuff squeezes my arm, I panic.

Mom rushes over to calm me and pushes the nurse's button on the side of my bed. My eyes find purplish marks on her chest, which she notices and covers with her shirt. Panic turns to anger, and I glare at the large balding man watching me from the chair facing the television.

Pushing my hair back, Mom leans closer. I'm so glad you're awake. They were worried when you didn't come out of it right away. Your injuries were bad but not that severe. They tested you for everything. Your wounds only started healing a couple days ago. No one knew what to do.

I blink, memory slowly returning. What she says registers partially. Jim?

My voice is a mere croak, but by her wince, I can tell she heard. Tears threaten. Before I can say anything else, a nurse walks through the door. Oh! She's awake. Let me get the doctor.

Silence takes over as I look between the man and woman occupying my hospital room. It's awkward, so I'm glad when the doctor enters behind the nurse. She checks my vitals while he walks over to talk to me.

How are you feeling? the doctor asks.

Tired and a little groggy.

That's understandable. Anyone would be groggy after a three-week nap. The police wanted me to notify them when you're awake. Are you able to answer a few questions?

I can try. Before he can walk away, I grab his coat. Can I get some water?

Of course. With how great your vitals are and your coherency, I’d say it's safe to let you eat and drink. Anything else?

What happened? Mom said something about my wounds not healing.

The man in the white coat places the clipboard by the computer in the corner and sticks his hands in his pockets. "I'm not sure what happened before you got here; the officers said something about a wolf. You had multiple bites and broken bones. Nothing that seemed too serious.

"The problem was that you wouldn't wake up. For some reason, you slipped into some kind of coma. Every once in a while, your heart rate and blood pressure would spike for a while before coming back down. In all my years in medicine, I never saw anything like it.

Besides that, your wounds didn't want to close. We checked for all kinds of infections and diseases, including rabies, but everything came back negative. A few days ago, everything started to heal. There isn't a single scar on you. I'm not sure how to explain it.

I remember my ankle and wrist being broken, but there is no pain. After three weeks, there should still be something. Shouldn't there be? Remembering the last bite, I slip my hand under my gown to find unbroken skin on my shoulder.

What happened to me? I ask.

I'm bored, my wonderful father interrupts. I'm getting something to eat.

The doctor purses his lips and watches the man walk from the room before shaking his head. As I said, I can't tell you that, Ms. Rhodes. You'll have to ask the officers. I only know you were attacked by some kind of wolf.

Nodding, I let the doctor leave without further questions. When I look at Mom again, I see her pulling her shirt up more. I frown. No need to hide them. It's not the first time I've seen them. I used to even have my own.

My mother looks down at the hands twisting in her lap. It's not like I can do anything about it. When will you decide to forgive me?

When you leave. It's hard to forgive you when you keep yourself and Devin in that situation. You can't tell me Dad hasn't turned on him yet.

Her grimace proves my point. Before she can argue, my father walks back in with a cheeseburger and fries, complaining about how soggy the fries are and how hard the bun is. My stomach grumbles. As the nurse walks in with water, she casts a glance at the man who is supposed to act like my father and shakes her head.

She hands me a menu. Order something from the cafeteria. The doctor hasn't given you any restrictions because we want to make sure you can handle food, but we suggest starting with something light.

I give her a smile and take the laminated paper in my hands. There isn't much to choose from. That cheeseburger smells good, but guests must have different choices. I don't see one on here. Instead, I decide on grilled cheese and some tomato soup. That should be mild enough.

My food arrives at the same time the cops do. They ask my parents to leave, which I'm grateful for. I'm not a child who needs adults around while discussing something I'd rather forget, particularly when I have enough trauma from one of those adults.

They state their names, but I don't bother remembering them. One stays by the door to guard against eavesdroppers. The other pulls a chair over and sits down.

He takes out a pad and pen. How are you feeling, Ms. Rhodes?

I purse my lips. Fine. Really good actually. Please call me Raelyn. I don't like the connection to my family thrown in my face.

The officer smirks, casting a glance at the door. I understand. Your father was a bit difficult when we were here last.

That's an understatement.

This time, the smirk is exchanged for a laugh. I wish I found it as funny. What can you remember from that night?

I tell him all I can recall, which I think is pretty good. The last thing I remember is the thing biting my shoulder and a loud bang.

The man nods. We found you unconscious but alive. Some hunters happened upon your group. They said they heard a bunch of screaming and went to investigate. What they found were a giant black wolf and a bloodbath.

Shuddering, I fight the nausea that comes with remembering the scene as I saw it. I can only imagine what it would be like to stumble upon it. Was I the only one...

I can't finish the sentence. I'm thankful when the officer understands my question. I'm sorry, Raelyn. There were no other survivors.

Taking a few shaky breaths, I turn to look out the window. It's sunny out, but most of my view is the orange brick that makes up another wing of the hospital. Tears burn my eyes, and it takes a few more deep breaths to calm the threatening sobs. A hand pats my shoulder.

Is there anything else you need? I say.

He sighs. No. We just needed to know your version of events to see how well they aligned with the hunters'. We've combed the woods but haven't found any sign of the animal.

I'm convinced it wasn't an animal. Do you believe in monsters, officer?

My head turns to look him in the eye while he answers. He squirms, and I can tell he doesn't like the question. I've seen too much in my career not to.

Not human monsters. Real ones.

I know it may seem that way, but this was only an animal. There are no monsters that don't wear human skin.

I used to think that too. Now, I know the truth.

He tries to smile, but the attempt doesn't fool me. I turn back to the food cooling on my tray. Both cops say their farewells and exit while I stare at my food. With a sigh, I lift a triangle of bread and semi-melted cheese. I dip it in the cooling soup, taking a bite that tastes like ash in my mouth as my parents return.

My father turns the television up to drown out my chewing while Mom opens my juice box. She sits next to me and offers to help me eat, but I decline. I feel well after waking up after a three-week-long coma. I don't need to be babied. Even through my strong independence, I let her pet my hair that I'm sure needs a good brushing.

Through the worst of it, she was there to calm my tears. That still doesn't mean I forgive her for letting me in that situation. Bitterness at the violence she forced me to live in is too strong. The memories of her comfort are nice. After everything that's happened, I can use it.

Once I'm done with the food, Mom moves the tray. Dad turns on some wildlife show, and I look away from the lions devouring a zebra. All I can see is the blood of my friends spraying everywhere. Jim was disemboweled by sharp teeth right in front of me. If I never see the insides of another living creature, it would be too soon.

When Mom wraps a comforting arm around me, I realize I'm crying. The floodgates open. I bury my face in her shoulder and sob. The fear, pain, and grief are too much to handle. Julia's lifeless eyes staring without seeing sends shudders over me. Feeling Jim ripped from my fingers and his blood hit my face makes me gag.

They've been my friends for as long as I can remember. We went through everything together, good and bad. Jim stood by my side any time life got too hard and I wondered if I'd survive. Now, they're all gone. I'm alone with a human monster and a woman who won't stand up to him. Two people I hoped to never see again.

Father gets annoyed at my wailing and turns the volume up until my head throbs. I tell them I'm tired and would like to rest. He grumbles about the price of the hotel they're staying at.

Mom pats my head. I'll talk to your doctor to see when you can come home.

What do you mean?

What do you think we mean? Father interjects. You'll be coming home with us until you feel better.

I don't think so.

Why not? they both say.

One, I feel better already. Two, I'd probably end up back in the hospital. There's no way. I can take care of myself like I’ve had to my entire life. I’ve lived just fine without you these last seven years, happy even.

When the shouting starts, orderlies rush in. Father gets unruly, and they're told to leave. I yell, Wait!

Everyone looks at me in question. My gaze is fixated on my father. I used to think you were a true monster. You used to love the reputation. You reveled in it. But I met a monster who puts you to shame.

Mouths drop all around before I tell them I don't want him in my room any longer. He screams at my mom to follow him. She looks torn between the two of us. As usual, she chooses him and ducks out of my room.

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Ahot, steamy shower feels great after three weeks in a coma. I'm sure they probably wiped me down, but I don't want to even think about that. Nothing beats hot water and soap cleaning everything away and sending it down the drain.

It's been five days since I woke up. I'm itching to be up and moving. When the doctor told me they're releasing me today, I